Page 32 of An Alien for the Future

There, across the field is a structure. One that wasn’t there the day before.

I squint, trying to make sense of what I’m seeing. “Mmhm, something’s not right here.”

At first glance, it looks like a natural formation—a cluster of trees and bushes. But that’s impossible. Trees don’t just sprout up overnight, not even on this alien world.

I take a few steps closer, my heart doing strange, almost cautious, thumps. There’s something deliberate about the arrangement, something that speaks of intention. The closer I get, the more I can see and I’m pretty sure the branches are woven together, the leaves arranged in a pattern that provides perfect cover while still allowing glimpses of the interior.

And then I see it—a flash of movement, barely perceptible, but unmistakably there. A shadow shifting within the structure, and the briefest glint of what might be a golden eye catching the morning light.

My breath catches in my throat as a figure emerges from the makeshift shelter. Even at this distance, I’d recognize that large form anywhere. Tovan mother-effing Kamesh.

I go still, not sure I’m actually seeing what I’m seeing. Did he…did he really make a camp near my farm? I stare at him, a swirl of anger, disbelief, and shock making me gape. After I explicitly told him to leave, this alien dares to set up camp on the edge of my property? My mouth slams shut as my nostrils flare with a pressured exhalation, my hands clenching into fists at my sides.

I open my mouth, ready to shout, to demand he leave immediately. But something stops me. Maybe it’s self-preservation. After all, I’m alone out here. Better not antagonize him, not when I don’t know what he’s capable of.

So I clamp my mouth shut, grip my bucket tighter, and pretend I haven’t seen him. I turn on my heel and continue on my way, my steps a little quicker, my shoulders a little tenser. But I can feel his eyes on me, watching my every move.

Trying to milk Gertrude while being watched by an alien makes it like trying to get water from a rock. God knows I’mdiligent, but I’m no Moses. My hands are sweating, my fingers fumble with the milking pail, and Gertrude seems to sense my unease. She shifts her weight, her massive body bumping against my shoulder.

Oogas have no teats. Her underside is practically smooth, only six sequential dimples near her rear where the milk is supposed to come out . It gets all over my arms and soaks into the dirt, my mood not helping at all.

Glancing over my shoulder, my frown only gets more severe when I catch the alien watching me. As soon as I look his way, he stands straighter. I glare at him, and Tovan has the audacity towave. My frown dives even deeper.

Does he really think I’m going to wave back? I scowl, making it even more obvious I’m ignoring him as I abandon my milking efforts and stand instead. I need to focus on something else. Milking the oogas had been my big plan on supporting myself. Milk and bluebread. I was thinking I could sell them in the town for a modest living. So far, that idea’s falling through like sand in a sieve, but I’ll figure it out. I always do. So, ignoring the purple alien that stands out like a sore thumb across the way, I carry on with my tasks.

Throughout the day, I try to go about my usual routine. I tend to the crops I’ve planted in a little square near the cottage, feed the animals, and even repair a section of fencing that’s come loose. But every task is colored by the knowledge of Tovan Kamesh’s presence. I find myself constantly looking over my shoulder, expecting to see him standing right behind me.

But he never approaches. Never calls out. Just…watches.

It’s unnerving. I find myself jumping at small noises, my nerves frayed and on edge. And the worst thing, it’s not fear I feel. I’m not afraid of the big alien. I’m just…aware he’s there. I don’t know if that’s worse.

As the sun begins to set, painting the sky in brilliant shades of orange and purple, I retreat to my cottage. I lock the door behind me, something I’ve never felt such pressured need to do before. Peering out the window, I half-expect to see Tovan’s face pressed against the glass. But there’s nothing. Just the distant shape of his makeshift shelter on the field next door, barely visible in the fading light.

I sink into a chair at my kitchen table, my mind whirling. What is he doing? He’s not approaching. Not trying to convince me of what he blurted the other day. Not trying to get on my land. He’s just…there. Is this some kind of Kari courting ritual I don’t understand? Or is it something even worse?

Finishing my dinner, I run a hand over my face. “He’s not my problem. He’ll get bored and leave eventually.”

But even as I say the words, I don’t believe them. There was something in Tovan’s eyes when he called me hiskahl, a certainty that went beyond mere infatuation or desire. I ignored it, but maybe he believed what he was saying, even if I didn’t.

Well, that sucks for both of us.

As I clean up, I catch myself glancing out the window again and again, searching for any sign of movement in the darkness. When I finally make it to bed, sleep eludes me. I toss and turn, unable to rest. What if he tries to break in? What if this is all part of some elaborate plan?

I told him I’d call the guards if he returned, but what will I say? That an alien told me he’s interested in me, I told him to leave, and now he’s camping next door and it’s annoying? It sounds more comical than dangerous. I could call Xarion, but he’s the one that’s been telling me to put myself out there, not lock my door and tell the aliens to shoo.

When dawn finally breaks, I’ve barely slept a wink. I drag myself out of bed, feeling like I’ve gone ten rounds with awrestler. As I stumble to the kitchen to make some tea, I steel myself for another day of this strange, silent standoff.

But when I look out the window, my heart nearly stops. Tovan’s shelter is gone. The point where it stood is empty, as if it had never been there at all.

For a moment, relief washes over me. He’s gone. He’s finally listened and left me alone. But then something else takes hold. I stare at the spot where his camp was for far too long. Part of me wants to celebrate. This is what I wanted, was it not? The return of my solitude? But another part, a part I’m not quite ready to acknowledge, feels…disappointed.

He gave up.

I frown at my faint reflection in the window. I don’t want him here. I don’t even like him. There’s nothing to be disappointed about. So what? He declared I was his mate and then decided to not pursue me. His loss.

But that twinge of disappointment is still there. Because…because maybe a small part of me wanted the pleasure of that feeling. Of someone chasing me. Of being desired. Even if I wasn’t planning on going anywhere with it.

I release a slow breath. I really am a mess.

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